Open Doors
by Ai-chan3
Summary: It wasn’t fate that drew them together. It was chance. But sometimes chance works a lot like fate only without the bias.
1. The Gate Opener

Disclaimer: I don't own, so don't sue. Suing is bad. It means you have an evil soul Especially if you're suing bored fangirls with no money.  
  
----  
  
Chapter 1: The Gate Opener  
  
The vektrakt was an unusual device. Its shell was made out of a special alloy of copper and steel, and shaped like two gap-toothed domes connected by a series of small hollow glass tubes. Inside the vektrakt was a diagonal crisscross of wires. It worked like a lantern, only instead of the device producing light, it sent off a frequency of noises that produced light from stone. It was the tunneler's way of knowing which rocks were which.  
  
The vektrakt was switched on to one of the lower frequencies. Dull green light blossomed from the rocks in the vektrakt's perimeter, which consisted mostly of the cavern floor. Cekva hopped off the rope that she had been lowered down on and stepped along the stone floor. The darkness was surprisingly overwhelming, despite the faint light. The light seemed to only serve in making the almost solid blackness more real. Cekva let her eyes adjust to the gloom and focused on the light's colour. Green light simply meant limestone. Cekva doubted if there would be any good copper deposits down here.  
  
The cavern walls were about 70 kets (about 87 feet) apart from where Cekva stood, judging by how faintly the vektrakt was causing them to glow. The entire cavern seemed to be limestone and marble. It was certainly good for paving the roads of the surface cities and the wealthier parts of subsurface communities, but it was copper that was in high demand. With copper and other alloys, the Kivn were able to build their great cities and temples that were nigh indestructible.  
  
Cekva held the vektrakt in front of her, approaching one of the cavern walls where she thought she might have seen a flicker of blue, which would mean the possibility of a vein of copper. When she reached the glow, she found it was not copper, but a small crystal. A blue crystal, resonating the vektrakt's strange frequency. It was beautiful. Cekva touched it, and felt a shiver run through her body. This crystal... this crystal was hers but it was her mother who had found it. So why was she in the cavern where her mother had been ten years ago when the enslavement of the Karn had begun? She heard a whisper of feet on wood behind her and she spun around to find herself in the wooden hut, illuminated with orange light from the furnace in the middle. In the corner of the hut was a crib. Cekva knew the crib, and the hut. It was her old home on the surface, four years ago before her mother had died and she had been permanently shipped off to the caves with so many others of their kind. The traitor Kivn were to live as the Karn.  
  
Her mother was sitting at the wooden table sipping her ration of water from a tin mug. Scraggly black hair tumbled out of a loose bun. Her skin was dark and leathery, deep creases on a face that was too young to bear them. She was only in her mid twenties, but two children and six years of hard labor had long since crippled her brief youth. She turned to Cekva, and gave a weak smile.  
  
"Ont kren kishi vandt geisont, Cekva, dow ven tenten kivishi kyun." When you go Cekva, be sure to protect your brother. But Cekva already knew that! Always, to protect Biyan. Always. It was Cekva's duty as the eldest child to protect the youngest. The parents were simply to bare the children.  
  
There was a pounding of fists on the door, before it was knocked aside, splintering at the hinges. Cekva rushed to the crib and scooped her baby brother into her arms. Her mother slowly unfolded as she stood to face the Kivn soldiers, her aged face, still young in places, and so proud despite years of shame and degradation.  
  
"Cek, yan!" Her mother ordered. Cekva hesitated, but finally obeyed. She opened the door to the bedroom, clutching Biyan to her breast. She pressed her ear to the door, hardly believing what she heard, as if she were witnessing some horrible stage drama instead of the reality. Mother was a traitor to the Kivn. The family was no better than the Karn. Mother to be executed, children to become slaves... it happened so quickly.  
  
Hell, Cekva had soon learned, was not full of fire. It was full of pain. Cekva understood pain. She could always understand pain, and she soon learned to conquer it. She would protect her brother. In her brother, there was hope, there was a future, there was the belief that he could change the world. He would change the world. Cekva persevered because she believed. She would protect Biyan.  
  
Two years later, Cekva was thirteen, and a tragedy that would truly test her faith in her brother struck.  
  
The tunnelers had found a small cavern, its floor a natural basin of some dark liquid. The driver had thought it might have been tar, and they were to excavate it in the normal fashion.  
  
At the time, Cekva would bring Biyan with her on digs on a carrycot strapped to her back. She had always been broad of shoulder and wide hipped, making her quite steady with heavy loads. Biyan, small, even for a two year old and somewhat simian in his appearance was no great feat of strength to carry.  
  
But the driver had a particularly sadistic streak, especially to Kivn traitors.  
  
"Lower than a Karn!" He snapped, as Cekva was apparently too slow in setting up the ceramic pipes. He lashed out with an electrified whip at Cekva, and the girl screamed. Not because of the pain. Cekva knew pain. She understood pain. Her body had grown so used to it by now... but a new pain had gripped her, cutting the breath from her lungs.  
  
The carrycot was slowly sinking into the tar and Biyan was shrieking. Cekva rushed in, splattering the black liquid everywhere. She was waist deep in it, wading through towards her shrieking baby brother. The earsplitting high-pitched siren of a baby's wail cut through to the very core of Cekva's instincts. Protect the younger. He is a boy, and he can change the world. Protect him.  
  
"Biyan ven tai! Ven tai ki yo!" He could not sink in. He could not die!  
  
Cekva reached the carrycot, pulling Biyan from the filthy sleeping rags and holding him high above her head. His legs were covered in tar already... and Cekva dragged them both back to the edge of the pond. Another traitor Kivn and a few Karns helped pull her out, so surprised, so horrified at what she had done.  
  
Cekva did not know why until she had seen what the substance really was.  
  
Tar should have left her with burns beyond reckoning. There were none. And tar did not produce odd purple sparks.  
  
Dripping from shoulders down with black sparkling stuff, she had knelt down by her wailing brother. The liquid had slid off of his legs like water off a duck, but he could never find it in himself to walk again.  
  
The driver was a big burly man, bulky muscle and bone crushing strength. He was laughing fit to burst at what had happened. All Cekva could remember was a blinding flash of red as her blood boiled with rage and adrenalin. The driver was too busy laughing to notice when Cekva had lifted him off his feet and chucked him into the black substance where he had shortly perished.  
  
Another two years, running through the vast tunnels, trying to find the surface, was finally coming to an end. Cekva had found the lift to the surface. The murder of a driver was a crime punishable by death but there were a lot of those. So Cekva had run. The black liquid had done something odd to her. Amazing strength, speed, reflexes... but there was a perpetual burning, as if something were eating away at her.  
  
It's this place, she would remind herself. The surface world would be safe. Or at least safer. She had been born a Kivn. She could hide among them easily enough.  
  
But she had lived as a Karn, and she would fight for them.  
  
---  
  
Jak sat up. Daxter was somewhere nearby, sleeping contentedly, or at least more peacefully than they had in Haven. The wastelands were not that bad, really.  
  
That dream... no, not a dream... but not a nightmare either. So strange... so real...  
  
Daxter cracked open a sleepy eye. "A'right?" He murmured drowsily, shifting a little so his chin was rested on his tail.  
  
Jak nodded and stared into space. He was thinking. This was an unusual reaction for him in the middle of the night, so Daxter watched him silently. When Jak would sit up like that, it would be with a horrible guttural howl of pain. He would be covered in a cold sweat, shaking from head to foot and then... he would talk. Low, quiet, incoherent. Not to Daxter. Not to himself. Not to anyone. Just a long string of babbling, letting out the memories, like poison. His partner's newfound voice terrified Daxter. Whenever he spoke, it was with anger and hate, or just pain. The contented silence Jak had carried before their time in Haven had been... well, the silence of a man too happy to have to say anything. Even after the mess Jak had gotten Daxter into on Misty Island, there was still an understanding between the two: nothing really horrible could ever happen, could it? Daxter would easily forgive Jak for getting him into the mess of being small, orange and furry but he would never forgive the Baron for what he had done to Jak. Never. The Baron had enlightened them both on how death was very real, with every sadistic experiment he had conducted on Jak. With every inch of Jak's body flooded with agony, it had wrenched his personality in two.  
  
Dark eco had turned Daxter into a smaller, furrier, version of himself.  
  
Daxter was still wondering what else Dark eco would do to Jak. For now, however, they were relatively safe in the forest they had taken cover in from a large group of metalheads. Just like the bloody gun to run out of ammo when you needed it.  
  
The forest they had found was an ancient one, full of huge trees. Not just huge, the things were bloody colossal! Jak had climbed up one of the larger ones, where they would be hidden from view from any metalheads in the thick foliage. For once, they could get a bit of shuteye. Strangely, there had not been hide nor hair of a metalhead in the trees. Not one. This had disturbed Jak, but not terribly. It made life easier.  
  
But here there was also a strange feeling of déjà vu. He couldn't help but to think something terribly important had happened here. Names flitted through his mind, but they were long dead memories. He tried to remember, but all he could think of was the dream. He wondered what happened to Cekva. He wondered if she were still alive or if she had ever existed at all. He wondered... but didn't dwell on it. Instead, he lay back, and dreamt of memories that were not his own.  
  
----  
  
Jak awoke the next morning, feeling for the first time in ages rested, if a bit stiff in the neck. Daxter had sometime in the night shifted his weight to sleep on his friend's chest. But now he was also getting up, wondering groggily why his mattress had suddenly decided to tip him off.  
  
"Morning," Jak mumbled, rubbing his eyes and spitting over the edge of the tree to get rid of some of the foul taste of morning.  
  
"G'morning," Daxter replied, and clambered up onto Jak's shoulder guard. Once awake in the morning, it was time to get moving so Jak shimmied quickly down the huge trunk and landed easily at the base, amidst the huge serpentine coils of roots.  
  
"Jak, is it just me, or does this place make you feel uneasy?" Daxter hissed, keeping his voice low. He must have really been bothered by the wood because generally he didn't bother with such niceties as whispering.  
  
Jak nodded. "Yeah... these trees are strange. Let's have a look around."  
  
Daxter rolled his eyes. That was just like Jak to want to explore a forest that put an ottsel's hair on end. My best friend, thought Daxter snidely, the kinda guy who even when up to his eyeballs in trouble will go looking for more.  
  
They pressed on through the forest. There wasn't much on the forest floor besides patches of grass in some of the sunnier, less dense bits, and dead and rotting wood. Neither was surprised about it. The enormous trees must have been sucking all the nutrients in the soil for themselves. There were a few animals, small rodents and lagomorphs that skittered about, but other than that there were few signs of life. The place was bothering Jak. His fingers were itching to pull the trigger and the lack of metalheads was making him nervous. No lurkers. No people. No metalheads. A few squirrels and bunnies, but that didn't really add up to much except a rather decent rabbit stew that afternoon. As they continued on, the forest seemed to get older, the trees getting thicker, more huge. They passed one that Jak was sure the diameter of the trunk must have been a good twenty feet. They had seen a few ruins, both Precursor and post-Precursor. But there was no surprise there either. You saw them all over the wastelands. You saw them everywhere. They were remains of a lost civilization, or the crushed cities from wars that were still being fought.  
  
"Man this place gives me the heebie-jeebies," Daxter murmered, shivering slightly.  
  
Jak chuckled silently. That seemed to be the only quiet part about the man these days; his laugh. "It isn't so bad," Jak said at last, looking up at the canopy of leaves that seemed miles away.  
  
"It's like the bloody cathedral of Nature Dame. It's too quiet here." Daxter shifted nervously on Jak's shoulder-guard, rubbing his paws together.  
  
Jak agreed. Now that he thought about it, the place was like some sort of temple, with impressive pillars and an expansive ceiling. And the silence that could echo back the slightest noises. A twig's snap could sound like a crack of thunder.  
  
"I don't hear any birds," Daxter continued, "And these tree's give me the willies!" He shot a sidelong glance at his friend as they passed another gigantic tree.  
  
"Dax, shh!" Jak put a finger over the ottsels mouth, his long ears twitching. "Hear that?"  
  
"Hrm whmm?" Came Daxter's muffled reply.  
  
"Sounds like water. It's not far either. Come on, let's go check it out. Our canteen could do with a bit of refilling."  
  
Daxter agreed to this. They had used up most of their water in that rabbit stewed in rabbit broth and a few herbs thrown in for the sake of a bit more flavor. But he'd really rather find a way out of the forest.  
  
----  
  
It wasn't water, as Jak had thought it might have been. It was... something else. It was a large sphere of some blue liquid, about ten feet in diameter and hovering about three feet off a raised marble platform. The sphere was contained within a rotating ring, carved with what Jak recognized as the ancient hieroglyphics of the Precursors. The blue liquid was making soft rippling noises, which was why he had thought it was a stream earlier.  
  
"What is it?" Daxter finally said, breaking the silence.  
  
"I dunno," Jak replied, clambering up onto the marble platform for a closer look. The rotating ring continued lazily past him as he stepped around the liquid sphere. Daxter gave it a wary look, but long since learned his lesson about touching things if he didn't know what they were.  
  
Jak reached out to brush his hand against the surface of the ring. It felt warm. Not like it had been sitting in the sun for a long time, but 'alive' warm. Underneath the metal surface, he could make out a light throb of a pulse.  
  
The ring came to a halt at his touch, the sphere of liquid becoming quite still. Its rippling surface became smooth.  
  
Jak and Daxter exchanged looks. This was never a good sign.  
  
----  
  
Time raced wildly, whipping about in the confines of infinity, reaching out to the source. It could feel it! The living incarnation of it was standing only inches away...  
  
Ever forward, it whispered, ever forward. Change the past, rectify the mistakes that have perverted you into something you never dreamed of becoming. Open your heart to us.  
  
----  
  
Jak reached out to touch the liquid, his expression oddly glassy. Daxter knew that face. It was the same empty expression Jak wore moments before he became that... thing.  
  
"Jak, no!" Daxter shouted, snapping Jak out of his daze just as the sphere of blue liquid suddenly came to life. It engulfed them both, and they found themselves in an all too familiar state of hurtling through time and space.  
  
----  
  
Gin was an old Kivn man of fifty-seven and had prospered as a farmer. He lived in a single-floor maze-like manor, built of adobe and hardwood. He was a man who tended to the prosperity of life, to the birth of plants, and anything that grew. He was a peaceful man, and had worked hard.  
  
Iktan was Gin's farmhand, a Karn, or to those that do not speak Kivnkye, a long-ear. Iktan was about seventeen, and had helped Gin since he was ten and had escaped from the work camps where warrior Kivn from the North Continent sent Karn and traitor Kivn.  
  
It was probably better for Jak and Daxter that it was Gin rather than Iktan who found them, dangling half conscious from one of his orchard trees. Gin stared lazily up into the olive tree where draped face down over the branches was a rather dazed looking yellow-and-green haired man in a blue tunic and beige trousers, and another man with flaming orange and red hair wearing absolutely nothing except a flight cap and a pair of goggles. He wondered vaguely if there was an alternate explanation to this besides the old saying of "kids these days."  
  
Instead of picking olives that day, Gin carefully removed the two young men, carrying one over each of his broad shoulders down the old wooden ladder. Gin was old, and he knew age would eventually catch up to him one day, but that one day had yet to arrive so he still maintained much of his strength that made him a great farmer in his youth. He set the two down on the net where he knew he should have been dropping fresh olives onto.  
  
"Iktan!" Gin shouted towards where he saw olives dropping onto another net about two rows down. "Iktan! De shkiyo!" Yes, over here you silly boy. Get that head of yours out of the clouds.  
  
Iktan hurried over. He was a good-looking Karn, with short reddish brown hair, often made a mess of by the leather cap atop his head. He was dressed in a pair of slacks and brown leather boots, a white tunic tucked haphazardly into his trousers and held in by a belt, and a brown leather vest, patched on the right shoulder from when it had caught on a tree branch. "An ki fahn, Gin-sha?"  
  
"Ne, ki fahn nen." Of course he wasn't alright! He had just discovered two delinquents in one of his olive trees, caught in the daze and aftermath of Shehkrahn only knew what!  
  
Iktan's gaze went slowly down to the two men, and then his eyes widened in surprise. "Shahna ki veh? Sunikt?" Who on earth were they? Where had they come from?  
  
"Ce ka. Konnikt, se wa nen dakka ko ichta va sho? An shishi-kanan took te vannaka." How was Gin to know? Wasn't it probably better to get them inside? And get the redhead some clothes. They were Karn after all, and while Kivn soldier patrols were scarce in the countryside, they were not unheard of and the last thing Gin needed was for Kivn soldiers to find their latest escapees unconscious and naked in one of his orchard trees.  
  
Iktan stared balefully at the naked Daxter and Gin sighed. "Ajo. Kepa shishi-kanan na dakka vicht tan." Alright, he'd carry the redhead. Bloody Iktan and his prudish outlook... And that red-head seemed heavy! He was tall. And bulky. More so than the one who was dressed, and Gin was an old man after all.  
  
Of course when Gin bellowed this to Iktan, the boy turned a deaf ear, instead pointing out Gin's marvelous feat of strength the other day when he had plowed a whole field with no help from a Yakkow and won his bet. Gin's mouth snapped shut, and he glared from behind his narrow, crinkly eyelids at his farmhand. But his mouth had cracked a smile.  
  
No matter who you were, flattery got you everywhere with Gin.  
  
----  
  
Jak sat up slowly. His body felt heavy and sore, as if he had been running for a very long time without rest. He steadied his aching head with one hand, trying force his eyes to focus. He was in a bed, and had somehow gotten himself tangled in the linen sheets. At the foot of the bed was a wooden trunk, where his boots, gloves, waist pouch, belts, shoulder straps and guard, the morph-gun and the jet board were all rested. Seeing the things laid out like that, he never realized how much he carried with him. But something was missing... Jak glanced around, expecting to see an orange ball of fur curled up nearby.  
  
"Dax?" He called slowly, detangling himself from the covers. There was no response. "Dax?" He called again, glancing around the room. It was furnished with a bed, the trunk, a few lanterns unlit because of the clear, bright sunshine pouring in through glass windows. A dresser stood to the left side of the door on the wall opposite the bed.  
  
Jak felt worried. If Daxter had been anywhere in hearing range, the ottsel would have come running. Perhaps they had gotten separated when they had fallen through the... whatever that thing had been. A rift gate...? No... he had seen a rift gate before. It hadn't looked like that... that thing... it had spoken to him.  
  
Sliding off the bed, Jak's bare feet came in contact with a cool, hardwood floor. Just what was this place?  
  
The click of the handle-latch on the wooden door heralded Iktan's entrance. He was carrying a small wooden mug full of a steaming liquid giving off a strong bitter scent, and a brown clay bowl full of cold water and a white wash-cloth draped over the rim. Iktan looked surprised to see Jak awake, and set the bowl and mug down on the dress.  
  
"Ahh, keyakka vo?"  
  
Jak stared blankly, incomprehension written all over his face.  
  
"Keshoka da ke. Na, ten vo tenno, se shishi-kannan, nen keyakka so. Te va?" Iktan continued, not understanding the look Jak was giving him. The farmhand fumbled with the cloth a moment, before soaking it in the water and offering to Jak. "Sa, ki vo, ki vo. Ten nakka tishi ko va."  
  
"I don't understand you." Jak said finally, trying to mimic his incomprehension with a few hand gestures.  
  
"Oh," Iktan exclaimed startled. "You speak Karnian! That good. I not speak my native language in very long time. Here, take this. It cold, and you catch sun-sickness from being still so long in sunlight."  
  
Jak took the cloth, mopping his face with it. He hadn't realized how hot it was until he felt the cool water on his skin.  
  
"You do well," Iktan carried on, passing the bowl of cool water to Jak who took it gratefully, wetting the cloth and dabbing any bare skin with it. "Gin-sha is not angry with you and your friend for trespassing. Gin-sha good man, especially for a Kivn."  
  
"My friend," said Jak, trying to keep pace with Iktan's rapid-fire explanations. "Is he alright?"  
  
"He alright. Sun-sickness. He sleep it off in room next to yours. He still sleep. Lying naked in sun too long, especially in heat wave this bad... well, he be alright. He woke for short time, Gin-sha gave him water, and he go back to sleep."  
  
Jak sighed. So Daxter was here and being taken care of. Good.  
  
"Where am I?" He blurted out suddenly, in remark on the unfamiliar surroundings. He set down the bowl of water, feeling sufficiently cooled off now.  
  
Iktan gave him a long piercing look and took the steaming mug from the dresser, passing it to Jak.  
  
"You in Gin-sha's manner. On his farm. You hear of Gin-sha, nen? In prison? He take escape Karn slaves, help them get away to south continent, Sentinel Continent where Karn safe. You and your friend escape slaves, nen?"  
  
"No," Said Jak, absentmindedly clutching his head in his hands. He felt dizzy.  
  
"Drink," urged Iktan, "that good medicine. Make you feel strong again. I am Iktan, I pretend to be Gin-sha's slave. Help Gin-sha so Gin-sha help karn slaves. You do well, drink now. Rest and get well."  
  
"I'm Jak," he replied, eyeing the steaming mug suspiciously. It was odd, but he felt as though he could trust this kid.  
  
"That good name. Strong name, name of great hero, many years ago. Jak was a Karn too. He save Sentinel Continent from dark sages, Gol, Maia, you know the story?"  
  
Jak looked up, his head spinning. Had this kid... Iktan... just said what he thought he said?  
  
"Yeah," he said finally, "yeah, I know the story. I know it real well..." probably better than anybody. After all, he had been there when it happened.  
  
"Drink and rest. I be back later with some food. Your friend will probably wake by then too. Sun-sickness not good. I catch when I was younger and did not rest. Could not move for days."  
  
Jak nodded, and took a long gulp of the steaming liquid. It tasted foul, but he felt the ache leave is body and a deep sleepiness suddenly overtake him. He sat down on the edge of the bed and finished the drink before falling asleep again.  
  
"Rest well," said Iktan to the sleeping Jak before collecting the bowl, cloth and mug. "I glad to be able to speak my language again... been so long..."  
  
----  
  
Ai-chan: Oh ho ho ho! Turns Chibi-Jabberwocky And here it begins, my first ever Jak and Dax fic! (Please go easy on me). Right now I'm juggling two fics (this one) and my Get Backers fic (which coincidentally has the person who beta'd this as one of the OCs .) Thank you Mei for taking time out of your overstuffed schedule for beta reading this! You are a sweetie, and I can't wait for you to move back to the states! YAY!  
  
Anyway, you might be able to see where this fic is leading from it's meager beginnings or maybe you can't, but trust me, there's going to be lots of fun twists and turns. And watch out for falling shounen-ai implications because, after all, this is an Ai-chan fic. I promise I won't be too heavy handed on the shounen ai... probably...  
  
Thanks for reading! C&C is welcomed with happy pink heart-shaped cookies, while flames will be eaten with cheese and crackers. 


	2. The Farm

Chapter 2: The Farm  
  
When Jak awoke again, orange light was filtering in through the windows. It must have been evening by now. He wondered vaguely how long he had been sleeping before his musings were cut off by something that smelled good.  
  
A tray of food had been placed on the dresser. Jak clambered out of bed and carefully inspected the food. A stew full of vegetables and lumps of what must have been Yakkow meat, a chunk of white bread with a hard crust, and a wooden goblet of some drink or another that smelled rather pleasant. Jak exhaled a long sigh. What was this place? Heaven?  
  
He cleared his things off the wooden trunk and took the tray, seating himself down on the old wood to eat. When he had ladled the first spoonful of stew into his mouth, he became suddenly aware of how hungry he was. He chewed his first bites cautiously, then, satisfied that they weren't poisoned or drugged, he began to wolf down his meal. He hadn't eaten properly in god only knew how long and the food tasted good. He broke off a piece of the bread, gathering up some of the thick broth and gobbling it up. The drink turned out to be some sweet, floury tasting wine and while Jak preferred beer or just plain water, he wasn't complaining. When he had finished, he felt full and strangely content.  
  
He hadn't felt this tranquility since life in Sandover... but that was part of a long distant past.  
  
Or was it? The boy, Iktan... he had spoken of Gol and Maia, and the Sentinel Continent. Perhaps that strange sphere of liquid had taken them to another time? Perhaps a time before Haven City? Or maybe after? Questions flitted in and out of his head. What was a Kivn? For that matter, what was a Karn? Well, he was. Iktan had said; Jak was a Karn too. But what did that mean?  
  
Where was Daxter?  
  
Jak blinked, the unprecedented thought suddenly becoming the predominant question on his mind. He was finally noticing the lack of constant chatter, the lack of the slight weight on his left shoulder...  
  
He again remembered Iktan's rapid speech. The room next door. Getting unsteadily to his feet, Jak approached the wooden door, and opened it. It wasn't locked as he had expected it to be. And as he stared down at the partially opened door, he wondered when he had become so paranoid about everything.  
  
_When you live, day to day, second to second, glancing over your shoulder, never knowing when your next breath will be your last; running, hiding, fighting, screaming, suffering... when cold metal becomes your only friend, when the sound of gunfire is your only comfort... you know you've lost your way somewhere along the line.  
_  
Jak opened the door fully and stepped out into the deserted hallway. A wooden staircase leading down was at the opposite end of the hall, across from the room where Daxter must have been in. The walls of the hallway were white plaster, supported by dark wooden beams, crisscrossing where the wall met the ceiling. There were pictures on the wall, all faded and old paintings of a woman and a little girl, all different ages, but Jak could see that they were the same people in the pictures. The paintings of the woman stopped when she was what looked like her early thirties. The pictures of the young girl stopped when she was in her late teens, about the age Jak had been when he had gone on his first adventure.  
  
Jak stopped at the last one of the older woman. She looked like the girl's mother. They both had the same shape eyes, same hair... the older woman was not terribly beautiful, but there was a strange elegance about her. Her face was noble, she raised a handsome head with pride gazing at the world, not haughtily, but with dignity. Jak could not tear his eyes from her. She was...  
  
"My wife." Said a low voice from the staircase.  
  
Jak turned suddenly, caught off guard for the first time in ages. Had he been that absorbed?  
  
"Sorry?" He replied, as Gin heaved himself steadily up the steps. He was a big man, broad-shouldered with leathery brown skin, long graying hair, and bushy brown eyebrows. His clothes were that of a workingman, but they were not poor. They were well tailored and well cared for.  
  
"My wife." Gin repeated, gesturing to the painting of the woman. "And my daughter," he added, indicating a painting of the girl when she was about nine.  
  
Jak remained silent, not knowing what to say.  
  
"They died, you see... my wife ten years ago... my daughter three. She'd be a little older than you now." Gin heaved a sigh, standing in front of the painting of the girl when she was about seventeen.  
  
"Did you paint these?" Jak asked, still not sure what to do. He knew about death... he had seen many deaths, had been the cause of many more. But this felt different.  
  
"Yes," said Gin lowly, running calloused fingers over the face of his dead wife. "Every year I would do another painting of them, but I've long since stopped painting."  
  
Jak was silent. This was different. Seeing death was one thing, but seeing the grief of the living was another. He felt as though he were skimming on the sharp ledge of an abyss he did not want to even go near, so he veered the conversation to something a little easier to deal with.  
  
"Are you Gin?"  
  
Gin chuckled. "That's me. You met Iktan then?"  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, he was a big help."  
  
"Good," Gin gave another low chuckle. "Good. He's a good boy. He told me you weren't an escaped slave, and that you only spoke Karnian. I'm interested in as to why you and your friend decided to come to my home if you are not in search of freedom."  
  
Jak took a long look at Gin, then finally spoke. "Dax and I... well, we're not from around here see, and we just kinda... dropped in."  
  
"Fell out of the sky?" Gin raised a bushy gray eyebrow, but didn't elaborate.  
  
"Sort of." Jak murmured, wondering vaguely why he felt so sheepish. This old man, while he was clearly in good shape for his age, offered no particular challenge to Jak's unique abilities. So why?  
  
"I see. And I suppose your looking for your friend in the room next door."  
  
Jak nodded, and felt slightly unsettled in the presence of this man. He didn't give off the foul feeling of corruption or cruelty that Erol and the Baron possessed, nor the wickedness or perversion of Kor. It was like being back in the presence of the Oracle; a feeling of shame and sin.  
  
"Well, he woke up a little while before you, and he's downstairs jitterbugging over something or another." Gin gave a dismissive wave of his hand.  
  
"Jitterbugging?" Jak asked.  
  
"It's a sort of dance the kids your age who live in the cities do to this music they call 'swing'. Rather good. Wish I still had the energy to go out and dance like that. I suppose the sunsickness has made your friend a little confused."  
  
"No," said Jak, wondering vaguely what Daxter was dancing about. "No, he's always like that."  
  
----  
  
Cekva peered over the edge of the ditch. The steady rhythmic thud of the Kivn soldiers' marching grew distant as she checked to see if the coast was clear. Satisfied, she hauled her brother into a sling around her neck and clambered over the edge of the ditch onto the muddy road. Cart-tracks, hoof prints, and footprints littered the ground, and Cekva trudged onward in the opposite direction of the marching army. South. To the south of the sub-surface gate, there was said to be the den of the King of Monsters.  
  
Cekva would go there... and from there, she would be able to find a cure for her brother in peace.  
  
----  
  
Whatever Jak had been expecting when he saw Daxter downstairs, with a half- terrified Iktan alternating between trying to calm down the shouts of excitement, or joining in for the hell of it, he had not been expecting what he saw.  
  
He recognized Daxter, despite the dramatic change. It was hard not to, even after almost four years of him being small and fuzzy, he still maintained many of his old features from his younger, and taller days.  
  
The hair was still its vivid orange and red, only now there was less of it. Well, no there was more of it, but it was concentrated to his head, and held back through his lucky flight cap.  
  
He had put on a lot of weight. Mostly from the fact he was more than four feet taller than he had been for the past few years. He had also filled out. Daxter was now all lean muscle, taller, more adult. He wasn't the skinny, nerve-wreck of a boy he had been before. There was a bit more confidence there.  
  
And the clothes. The clothes were a dead give-away that there was something different about Daxter. When he was an Ottsel, all he needed was his suit of orange fur. Well, now he needed the red tunic, beige pants and leather sandals that either Gin or Iktan had provided him.  
  
And Jak had never seen Daxter so happy.  
  
"Dax...?"  
  
Daxter turned, finally noticing Jak and gave a wide grin. He still had the overbite, but it was less severe, and the front teeth had straightened so that they weren't sticking out at odd angles. He was on a precarious edge of looking like a cute teddy bear or an oversized kid who just got a slingshot for his birthday.  
  
"Jak!" Daxter hurried over to his friend still grinning like a madman. "Notice something different?" He asked, as if he had merely gotten his hair cut.  
  
"Um..." Jak pretended to look thoughtful, knowing full well it annoyed Daxter to no end when it was he who made the jokes. "I dunno, give me a hint."  
  
"I'm back! To normal!" There was a long silent pause before Daxter amended; "Relatively speaking."  
  
Jak didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. Daxter had been an ottsel for almost four years, and here he was, standing taller than Jak, eyes alight with happiness. All he could do was grin, and keep grinning. He couldn't seem to stop. Daxter was back!  
  
"What is he talking about?" Iktan asked in his careful English. His language skills were rusty from disuse and spending a good seven years of his life only speaking Kivnkye.  
  
Gin came down the stairs with deliberate slowness, his neutral expression doing little to conceal his interest in his new guests. Jak kept shooting him wary looks, certain the old man knew far more than he was letting on.  
  
"It must have been that sphere-thing we fell through," Daxter continued, ignoring Iktan. "I heard it talk to me... it said I would 'need both shapes before the end' and 'protect those with your new-found strength'. Jak, do you think that might've been liquid white eco?"  
  
Jak's head was spinning again, his mind flooded with at least ten times more questions than answers.  
  
"I dunno," he felt stupid saying it. He wished he had answers. "But we're... somewhere, somewhen, and you're back to normal."  
  
Daxter laughed. Jak hadn't heard him laugh in a long time. Certainly Daxter joked, and made fun of everything, but he rarely laughed. Not since Haven. Not since Jak had seen the orange blur on his chest while strapped to some torture device, begging him to say something... anything.  
  
Jak wished his first words hadn't been a death threat. He had wanted to give Daxter a nonchalant smile, he wanted him to see he was alright. But fury had ripped out of Jak's mouth instead.  
  
Daxter's laughter subsided as quickly as it had begun. "That's so like you, buddy. As long as we're alive and in one piece, nothing else matters, right?"  
  
Jak managed another grin, but he could feel Gin's stare boring into the back of his neck. "That's right."  
  
"What is going on?" Iktan finally cut in through the din of excitement. "I'm not going to ask again," he threatened as an afterthought.  
  
"Good," Daxter grumbled, rolling his eyes.  
  
"We're trying to figure that out now." Jak said, reading the mutinous glare Iktan was giving Daxter. Jak turned back to Daxter, his voice dropping low. "Look, let's talk about this later."  
  
"A good idea," came Gin's scratchy voice. "If you two are looking for a place to stay, I will allow you to remain in my manor without having to pay rent, providing you do your share of work."  
  
"Actually," Jak began, "Dax and I need to find a way to get back home..." Wherever that is... "And..."  
  
Gin cut him off with a wave of his hand, "Wherever your home is, it is probably a long way off if you are a Karn and have not heard of me."  
  
Jak and Daxter exchanged looks. Daxter was catching on to the idea that maybe this old man Gin knew more than he was letting on.  
  
"What's a Karn?" Jak asked, finally. Gin chuckled.  
  
"You, my dear boy. And your friend. And Iktan. You are all Karn. It is a Kivn term meaning long-ear." Gin indicated his own short, slightly pointed ears. "I am a Kivn."  
  
And then Jak noticed it. There was something odd about Gin's physical appearance. His legs were longer, his arms went only down to his hips and as he had indicated, his ears were very short. He was a completely different race from Jak's people.  
  
Samos had mentioned it, a long time ago in Sandover, about a continent to the north where there were a strange looking people, very warlike and wanted nothing more to conquer and enslave those on the Sentinel Continent.  
  
So they were called Kivn, and now Jak was meeting one. They were very odd indeed, if they were all something like Gin who looked as though he could see through a ten-foot thick brick wall.  
  
But Gin did not seem warlike. He looked strong, and in good shape for his age, but he did not have the cold stare that Jak knew well of those who had seen a battlefield. Gin looked as though someone who worked for life and prosperity, not death and despair.  
  
"I think," Gin cut in before Jak or Daxter could say anything, "that you two ought to get some sleep. Iktan and I missed more than a half a days work picking while trying to nurse you back to health, so I consider it only fair that you two will be repaying our efforts tomorrow."  
  
Daxter snorted. "Oh come on old man, we ain't farmers! We're heroes."  
  
It was Gin's turn to snort. "Whatever you say. But I still expect you up at the crack of dawn with Iktan and myself."  
  
"Heroes?" Iktan quipped. "What kind of heroes?"  
  
Daxter seemed about to explain when Jak hauled him up by the back of his collar. "Not now Dax," Jak grumbled, and gave him the look of 'I'll explain LATER' which Daxter knew very well. "Thank you very much for all your help. Dax and I will be happy to help you tomorrow."  
  
"We will?"  
  
"Yes. We. Will."  
  
"If you say so buddy, if you say so." Daxter said hastily.  
  
And they headed upstairs while Iktan and Gin exchanged looks.  
  
----  
  
They had reached the top landing and were moving down the hall when Daxter stopped outside of the room he had been sleeping in.  
  
"Jak, do you know what's going on?"  
  
Jak stopped in mid-step and turned to face Daxter. "No, I don't know..."  
  
"Look, I know this sounds stupid, but do you think we're in another world?" Daxter asked, leaning against the doorframe.  
  
"No. No, Iktan mentioned Gol and Maia earlier and how we stopped them. I think we probably ended up in another time, like with the rift gate."  
  
"But that thing we fell through wasn't a rift gate Jak. It was alive." Daxter persisted, looking bewildered. "It spoke to me, probably turned me back into a person rather than a damn orange rat.  
  
Jak leaned heavily against a wall, staring up at a portrait of Gin's daughter when she was six. She gazed sulkily back, as if at the time she wanted nothing less than to sit still for however long it would take her father to paint her.  
  
"I wouldn't doubt that. It spoke to me too. It was first trying to call out... that thing. And then I heard you shout and came to, then it spoke to me."  
  
"What'd it tell you?"  
  
"To change what I've become."  
  
They stared at each other for a long time. Then Daxter sighed.  
  
"This place is reminds me of Sandover." Daxter looked up at the sullen expression on Jak's face and hastily amended; "I know it's not Sandover... but it's just peaceful here. It's a lot different from Haven."  
  
"Yeah," said Jak, feeling the headache beginning to return. "Yeah, it's really peaceful. Look, I'm exhausted. Let's get some rest and we can talk about this tomorrow."  
  
Daxter looked for a moment that he wanted to talk about this now, but he realized Jak wasn't lying when he said he was exhausted. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his body was slightly sagging as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. Daxter nodded. "Right buddy, get some rest. God only knows, I could use some to."  
  
Jak managed a grin, and disappeared into his room.  
  
Daxter sighed, watching the door close behind Jak. "Damn him anyway. Oh well."  
  
----  
  
Jak awoke the next morning to the din of raised voices.  
  
It sounded like Daxter and Gin.  
  
Jak sat up clutching his head. Damn him anyway. Their first morning God only knew where or when and Daxter had started a fight with the person who looked after them and just when the hell was this headache planning on going away?  
  
Clambering out of a tangle of linen, Jak staggered for his heap of stuff that someone during the night (probably Iktan), had stacked back on the trunk.  
  
Boots? Check. Shoulder straps? Check. Belt and waist pouch? Check. Jet board? Check. Gun? Check, double check, triple check? It wasn't there.  
  
Shit.  
  
Jak searched around wildly for his gun, peering under the bed, lifting covers, behind the curtains on the windows; everywhere.  
  
It was gone.  
  
"Shi ja, ki fahn Jak-sha?"  
  
Jak spun around, a wild look on his face. Iktan had come in looking ruffled and a little annoyed (probably because of the shouting downstairs). The young man's face was smeared with black soot and oil and he was carrying Jak's gun awkwardly over his left shoulder.  
  
Jak was about to yell at him for taking things that didn't belong to him, but Iktan beat him to it. "I cleaned your gun last night. It was very dirty, you not take good care of it, it break one day." Iktan held the gun out to a stunned Jak. "That good gun. Good weapon. Morph gun, I hear they very new and issued only to the top Kivn soldiers. Has quick firing mechanism, cartridge switches and quick refills. I hear about them, and the resistance movement has been trying to get their hands on one so we can copy the designs and build our own. Our slow five round revolvers and rifles are little good against strong weapons."  
  
Jak took the gun hesitantly and studied it. It looked cleaner, polished and a few switches that had been sticking were now as good as new.  
  
Iktan gave him a broad smile. "Don't worry, I am very good with weapons. It work fine, I test it in the barn last night after cleaning it. I copy out blue prints as well. I hope you not mind."  
  
"No," said Jak dazed, putting the gun in holster on his back, "thanks."  
  
"It no trouble. I don't like guns much, but I do like mechanical things, and I'm very good at repairing them. Right now, I work on an old zoomer I find in Precursor ruins. Very damaged, and very old. I have to make many of the parts by hand so it take a long time. Where do you get the morph gun, if you do not mind my ask?"  
  
Jak thought a long time about this. Krew had given him the gun when he had shipped over some eco ore in a record time. And then he remembered something else about Krew; his remarkably short ears. He hadn't given it much thought at the time because Krew was so odd looking as it was, but now that he thought about it...  
  
"I did a Kivn a favor," said Jak in terms that Iktan would understand, "and he owed me big time for it. So he coughed up something that would help Dax and me out."  
  
"Dax...? Like short for Daxter?"  
  
Oh shit, Jak thought. "Er, yeah."  
  
"Ahn-sheh!" Iktan exclaimed, his face exploding into a huge smile. "What strange coincidence. That name of great hero's noble friend!"  
  
Jak grimaced. Whatever Daxter was, he doubted if anyone who knew him personally would ever call him noble. Not that Daxter wasn't brave. In fact, he was a lot braver than people would give him credit for. When it came to Jak's well being, Daxter had put his life on the line on many occasions. But Daxter wasn't noble. He didn't subscribe to any codes of chivalry or run around risking his neck for the lives of strangers. Come to think of it, neither did Jak. Whatever 'heroing' they had done had merely been a job that coincided with finding a cure for Daxter or Jak's own personal revenge against the Baron Praxis.  
  
"But the Daxter from the stories was a rat thing..." Iktan continued thoughtfully, more to himself than to Jak.  
  
Jak decided that veering the conversation to something else would be a good idea right now.  
  
"What's going on downstairs? Why are Gin and Dax yelling?"  
  
Iktan gave a disgruntled look at the door from where the shouting was coming in.  
  
"Daxter-sha broke a dish downstairs and Gin-sha lost his temper because he didn't sleep well last night. Both have very strong wills so they fight like two crocodogs over territory."  
  
Jak sighed. Great.  
  
----  
  
When Jak and Iktan had gone downstairs and into the kitchen, the shouting had finally subsided. Daxter was sulkily helping Gin put plates on the table, while shooting the old man dirty looks every now and then.  
  
"We're not your slaves, you know old man." Daxter grumbled, taking a stack of wooden bowels.  
  
"Contrariwise, shishi-kannan, you'll have to pretend to be if Kivn soldiers make their patrol around here today."  
  
"Why?" Asked Jak. He felt as though he somehow already knew the answer but he couldn't grasp how or when the knowledge had come to him. He had distant memories of a recent dream, but the images drifted in front of his conscious as substantial as smoke, before drifting off again.  
  
"Because the Kivn take your people as slaves. Any fool who lives even in this area should know that."  
  
Jak sighed, and took a few dishes from a muttering Daxter and setting them on the table. "Right. Great. Slaves. Wonderful."  
  
"Personally, I think that 'Manifest Destiny' the Priesthood is spewing is absolute cock and bull. Karn are as much people as we, and are not 'destined' to be anyone's slaves." Gin puffed indignantly. His expression became solemn suddenly, but he did not say anything more. Iktan looked knowingly at the expression but did not meantion it and instead took a large bowl of what smelled like onion soup from the stove and a loaf of the white bread with a hard crust and setting them on the table.  
  
----  
  
Work on Gin's farm, Jak soon learned, was very long and difficult. Gin's property was extensive. There were seven fields on the side of the dirt road that Gin's manor was built. There were three fields that were resting in the rotating crop fashion, while the other three fields were in use for corn, wheat and vegetables. The fourth was the orchard where there were rows of olive, peach, and apple trees. To the east of Gin's manor was a stream and a wind/watermill. Across from that stream were three large rice paddies and across the road were the hiphog pens and grazing fields for the yakkows and large barns where grain and hay were stored. To the west was a lake, peppered with Precursor ruins poking out of the tranquil surface and just visible over the lakes opposite shore were spiraling towers of what appeared to be a large city. He was amazed that just Gin and Iktan managed without any help.  
  
He voiced this aloud to Iktan who was hurrying by with a large net of olives to put them in one of the whicker baskets.  
  
"Certainly no," said Iktan dumping the olives into the basket, while Daxter trudged forward under the weight of his olive net. "We have much help coming down from upper village. Men your age come down and use the windmill for their grain, and in return help Gin sow or pick crops."  
  
"So where the Hell are they?" Daxter snapped, looking around wildly as if expecting the said men to come marching out of thin air to lend a hand.  
  
"They have their own work," Iktan explained patiently, while Jak went back up the ladder listening intently to what the young farmhand said. "In village, two miles off to the southwest. They go to city today to sell their excess crops for extra money. Gin-sha and I supposed to go today, but we go tomorrow. Festival last all week, you see."  
  
Daxter shook himself, after dumping the olives in his own basket, taking in Iktan's rapid, disconnected speech.  
  
"What festival?" Asked Jak.  
  
"The festival; Shera ken Devvah de Kehvahkrahn sera Shehkrahn."  
  
"The Sherry-ka-vavava-doo-who's-a-whatsit?" Daxter looked up indignantly. "Could you translate that so it makes sense?"  
  
Iktan gave a long-suffering sigh. "It's a celebration of Kehvahkrahn's triumph over Shehkrahn, when Shehkrahn and his attendants were banished from the heavens for proclaiming that Karn were as much in need of the Gods' and Oracles' protection as the Kivn. The Oracles sided with Shehkrahn and they too were banished. Many of their relic statues have been destroyed since."  
  
Iktan's explanation was met with blank stares. The farmhand sighed again. "You two really know very little. Where you from?"  
  
"Haven City." Daxter answered automatically, clambering up the ladder next to Jak's.  
  
Iktan's head shot up immediately. "Haven City? The Haven City?"  
  
Jak looked thoughtful for a moment and then exchanged glances with Daxter. "We weren't aware there was more than one." He said finally, climbing down his ladder.  
  
Iktan shook his head in disbelief. "From city of the Priesthood? That explain why you have powerful weapon! You not spy for Priesthood?"  
  
"Whoa, whoa, WHOA." Daxter said loudly, also hopping down to join Jak and Iktan. "No one said anything about a priesthood. Whatever the Hell you're talking about."  
  
Iktan stared thoughtfully up at Daxter and then to Jak. He seemed to be trying to draw a conclusion. "Did you two hit your heads or something? You really don't know anything about anything do you?"  
  
"Look," said Jak slowly, "just tell us what this priesthood is."  
  
"The Priesthood," Iktan began and then saw Gin approaching. "Ah, Gin-sha needs our help. It must be the windmill again."  
  
Jak sighed. What did a guy have to do to get some answers around here?  
  
"Jak-sha, Daxter-sha," Gin waved his large hand above his head, indicating towards the windmill to the northern part of the farm. "I need your assistance."  
  
Without complaint, they hurried towards the old man, trailed by Iktan. The sooner they got this work out of the way, the sooner they could get answers out of Iktan.  
  
----  
  
The windmill was about five stories tall, and was built next to the stream so that the waterwheel could take over powering the mechanics inside if the wind was scarce. The stream had been dammed for this very purpose in case of drought so that there would always be plenty of water if there weren't any wind.  
  
At least, that's what Jak presumed when he and Daxter stood beneath the large structure accompanied by Iktan and Gin. And he was quite right.  
  
"Jak-sha, up there are a few screws loose. The vanes are quite rickety, and they seem like their ready to fall off. If you could go up there with Iktan and screw them in, Daxter-sha and I will be able to get them going again."  
  
Iktan looked nervously up at the top of the windmill, his expression one of someone who the very last place in the world he wanted to be was at the top of a five-story windmill.  
  
Jak saw the rungs running up along the side of the windmill leading up to the top and then back to Gin. "Gotta wrench?"  
  
----  
  
Gin did indeed have a wrench. Two, in fact. He handed one to a rather apathetic Jak and one to Iktan who was turning a delicate shade of green. Jak took a look at the sickly expression on the farmhand's face and turned back to Gin.  
  
"Hey Gin... uh... sha, I think it would probably be better if Dax went up with me rather than Iktan... er... sha."  
  
Gin raised a brow, looking dubious.  
  
"Would you?"  
  
"Yeah," Jak urged. "We have some experience repairing windmills." This was true to an extent. He and Daxter had gotten a power cell out of it back in Sandover Village.  
  
Daxter was about to protest but Jak elbowed him and gestured with a jerk of his head at Iktan who looked as though he was about to loose his lunch. Daxter sighed and rolled his eyes. That was so very like Jak.  
  
"Alright," Gin consented. "Iktan knows more about the internal mechanics anyway. I thought you might have needed some help up there. But if you have experience repairing windmills..."  
  
----  
  
"'We have experience repairing windmills'. Jesus, Jak!" Daxter shouted to the blond underneath him as he clambered up the side of the windmill. "Why do I listen to you?"  
  
"Relax Dax," Jak said casually up to his friend. "How hard could tightening a few screws be?"  
  
"I'd like to tighten a few screws in your head," Daxter grumbled. Jak snorted, but didn't reply.  
  
He had put Daxter in Iktan's place because of the many things Daxter was afraid of; heights were not among them. Daxter was a good climber, terribly agile and quick and that had only been honed to perfect refinement during his time as an ottsel. Even now when he had filled out and was even slightly bigger than Jak, he was still as quick and agile as ever. Jak could not rely on a person who could not keep their cool this high up.  
  
Soon they had reached the top, and lo and behold, a few large screws had been loosened out of their holes. Jak grinned as he clambered up behind Daxter and got to work tightening them. Daxter helped by holding the board's still while Jak worked. It was a quick job, and Jak was content to sit down and wipe the sweat from his brow. The day was growing quite hot and it was only shortly before noon. Daxter sat down beside him, gazing out over the horizon. One could see the entire farm from up here, Jak realized and he stood, turning around and about taking in the scenery. The stream carried on past the road and through the fields where the brown dots of yakkows were contentedly grazing. The glittering clean waters vanished into the thick bluish green foliage of the surrounding forest that extended towards some bluish purple mountains mostly obscured by the haze from the humidity. To his left was the lake and now he could get a better view of the city. There were loud pops and flickers of light. Someone was setting off fireworks and Jak vaguely recalled what Iktan had said about a celebration. He looked around again. There was more forest north of the farm, speckled with the orangey gold glimmer of Precursor Ruins.  
  
Jak sighed and shut his eyes. "This place..." he murmured as a warm breeze tousled through his hair. Daxter stood and took his place at Jak's side.  
  
"Yeah... it feels like home doesn't it?"  
  
Jak nodded, and swallowed the steadily growing lump in his throat. He hadn't realized how much he missed Sandover until he got to this place; until he could recall how beautiful the world had once been before it had been overrun by metalheads and people like Baron Praxis.  
  
The vanes began to slowly turn, and Jak could see Iktan run out the bottom entrance, shouting with joy.  
  
"Got it! Hahnvihn! We got it to work again!"  
  
Jak waved down at Iktan. "All fixed?"  
  
"All fixed!"  
  
----  
  
After repairs had been done, they had taken a break from the heat of the afternoon to go down in the cellar of the windmill to start packing the grain and flour into sacks and stacking them on a cart. It wasn't particularly difficult work. The worst was lifting the sacks after they had been filled and carrying them up the stairs and stacking them on the cart.  
  
"We go to market tomorrow. Gin-sha say he get you two on ship to Sentinel Continent. He say for you to go there and ask young seer in town of Sandover for information as it seems the sun-sickness has addled your brains."  
  
"Sandover?" Jak asked, looking up rather startled.  
  
"Yes," Iktan continued, now used to Jak's constant questioning. "It largest town of free Karn. Gin-sha send me there when I have come of age so I might seek my own fortune."  
  
Jak nodded, but said nothing. He was turning different ideas over and over in his head. Seer. Sandover. Kivn. Karn. Kehvahkrahn. Shehkrahn. Priesthood. Haven City.  
  
----  
  
It had been a long day's worth of work, and when Jak and Daxter stepped back into Gin's manor, they were thoroughly exhausted. For supper, Gin had taken out another loaf of that white bread, a jar of honey and a jar of jam, and a plate of Yakkow cheese from the metal storage box on the shelf above the stove. Despite their exhaustion, Jak and Daxter wolfed the food down rather quickly. No one exchanged words, but Jak didn't need to say anything. Pieces were slowly being put together...  
  
As he and Daxter headed upstairs for bed, he felt, despite all his confusion, content.  
  
----  
  
The party was headed by six embodiments of Eco. Gavik was once a man, but yellow Eco had transformed his body into something fox-like, with vivid golden fur and nine tails. Beside him was Avec, an elegant woman who maintained much of her former appearance except for the six eyes scattered across her person in addition to her original two that blue eco had given her. Kav was once a young boy, and still looked boy-like, but his skin was mossy gray bark and his hair had become leaves. Kav had lived above a green eco vent for most of his life. Yutta had been an old man and red eco had altered him into something like a golem. Ahead of them were the two others. No one spoke to them. The first was Sven, who had been a young man working in the mines. Seven years of exposure to gaseous dark eco in the mine pocket he had worked in had turned him into a pale, beastlike version of himself, his eyes clouded over with a gloss black pitiless gaze, and dark horns sprouted from his head. No one spoke to him because he killed when approached. The other was a girl who had simply turned up one day, confused and mute. She had been altered by light eco that gave her a washed out appearance, and she had sprouted a small pair of white-feathered wings. She always stared ahead of her, blankly and simply led the party forward. Shehkrahn had named the girl Yashka.  
  
Shehkrahn sat in full lotus, two arms resting in its lap, the other two raised above its head. Shehkrahn had once been two people, Sheh; a young man and his wife Krahn; they had been forced together by the mixing of dark and light Eco. Sheh was the light half, his skin completely white, and his eye black as onyx that was the beaded material his half of the clothing was made up of. Krahn was darkness, her eye a pale white. Her half of the clothing was decorated with ivory beads. Four attendants carried the platform upon which Shehkrahn meditated, moving slowly along with the small army of those who defied Kehvahkrahn to go and give the mortal man who was to rise against the Priesthood a mighty gift.  
  
Its eyes opened and looked ahead at the gloom of the nearing forest. Within those trees dwelled the one man.  
  
----  
  
Ai-chan: Urgh... that was chapter 2 and it was pretty anticlimactic (sorry) but I was just trying to set the scene. Chapter 3 will be much more exciting because we'll be meeting some fun antagonists. Anyway, this story is absolute speculation on my behalf and me just having fun with other people's characters. Anyway, enjoy and C&C welcome!

Beta'd by Ai's godly Chinese friend Mei who's english is a trillion times better than Ai's. Thank you Mei-mies poos 3  
  
Get Backers Fic glowers at Ai FINSH ME.  
  
Ai-chan: Aaaaahn... Sweatdrop


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